


Metamorphosis

by SneezeRogers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Grieving Draco Malfoy, Initial dramione, M/M, Mention of the Prophecy, Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Mutual Pining, Slow Build Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Slow Burn, Time Turner (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:20:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23646820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SneezeRogers/pseuds/SneezeRogers
Summary: “I’ll bring you back,” Draco hissed under his breath, voice slanted with a newfound anger and determination, “I’ll die before I live in a world without you in it.”
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Metamorphosis

**_Part One: Bone of Father, Unwillingly Given_ **

November 12, 1993: _The Golden Trio’s Third Year at Hogwarts_

“Just trust me Draco, I use this all the time for my classes,” Hermione giggled, the golden pendant and its chain draped across her fingers. She was sat criss-crossed facing him, in their usual meeting spot in the Room of Requirement.

Today it had become a normal looking library for the two of them, plush chairs and books stacked high against the walls resulting in a cozy aura for their familiar routine of seeing each other after her divination class.

“You’re sure I won’t come out of this missing an arm or a leg? You know that kid in Hufflepuff--” Draco started eyebrows knit together in concern, only to be cut off by Hermione finishing his statement.

“—Got splinched, yes, I know. But there may be a reason a Hufflepuff doesn’t have this then, hm?” She teased, a playful glint in her eye.

She held a slender hand out to Draco, holding eye contact as his palm slid into place against hers with ease. With her free hand, Hermione spun back the golden rings using her thumb and forefinger, giving their clasped hands a reassuring squeeze before the two were pulled through time without warning.

Draco gasped, his chest feeling like the wind had just been knocked out of him as the room blurred, time bending around them and making him squeeze his eyes shut. He focused on Hermione, her steadfast confidence in her knowledge to keep the two of them safe, and hoped it would be enough.

When time had finally settled, golden beams of sunshine shone harshly into their eyes, the chairs that were once beneath them having faded into tall grass. A lake was visible in the near distance, as well as a thick wall of trees to their left.

Hermione smiled softly, taking in the crisp November air. Eyes now open, Draco looked around as well, the new scenery disorienting him as to where—or _when_ exactly they were.

Realization dawned on him, putting the familiar scenery together in his mind. “Is this where Hogwarts is now?” He asked, almost laughing at how odd the grounds looked without the foreboding gray walls of the castle. Hermione nodded, an amused grin finding its way onto her face.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” She asked, leaning back on her hands and letting her legs stretch out in the soft blades of tall grass filling the field. Idly, she toyed with the flower stalk growing beside her feet were now, a few of its purple petals drifting away in the wind as they shook free.

“Yeah,” Draco let out softly, his eyes trained on the gentle swaying of Hermione’s hair in the breeze coming from across the lake, the sun illuminating it in shades of golden brown. He copied her body language, resting back on the heels of his hands and letting the tips of their fingers overlap.

Hermione felt his eyes on her, the warmth of embarrassment spreading across her face at the realization of what he had been talking about, rather than the scenery around them.

She glanced over at him, the world seeming to have literally paused for them in this moment. Draco scooted closer wordlessly, pulling Hermione close by her waist and pressing a kiss into the top of her hair as they continued to sit in the tranquil lull of the bare Hogwarts grounds.

The sun strengthened in its intensity as it neared dusk, the sky turning brilliant shades of pink and gold as the sun slipped behind the trees lining the Forbidden Forest. As shades of sunset passed over their combined silhouette, Draco and Hermione exchanged meaningless conversations followed by bouts of soft laughter, time seeming to pass effortlessly in the company of each other.

They stayed until fireflies had begun to dance around the two of them in the thick of the grass; an entertaining sight, but one that reminded them of just how late it had gotten. While time was their friend, whatever lurked behind the trees may not be.

Hermione looked up from where she had at some point moved to, head laid across Draco’s thighs and hair framing her face in wild tendrils.

“We should probably head back,” She said with a disdainful sigh. Draco shrugged, looking around the expansive field.

“I dunno, we could just stay here forever?” He offered, glancing down at Hermione with a serious expression.

After a moment, the two shared an unspoken understanding and laughed off the notion, knowing Draco would have to all but drag Hermione away from her studies on most occasions, let alone forget about them completely.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he mused, tucking a strand of hair behind Hermione’s ear, his thumb lingering on the slight dip of her temple.

The two of them rarely talked about feelings, but it was times like these that he felt like no one in the world understood the inner workings of his mind like she did, and that there was no chance that she was unaware of the way he felt for her.

Hermione welcomed the familiar touch of Draco’s hands against her skin, the sensation still filling her with giddiness after almost two years.

She was grateful for times like this with him; when she felt the anxieties of her usual life slip away until all she worried about was _Draco._

Hermione sat up, wrapping her arms around Draco’s neck and pulling him close for a chaste kiss, with a gentle sigh. Her eyelashes fluttered closed against his high cheekbones as he pulled closer, the unspoken tension of needing to be impossibly close fueling the embrace. Finally pulling away only enough to speak almost inaudibly against his lips, Hermione smiled.

“Now I’m ready.”

****

May 3, 1998: _One day following the Battle of Hogwarts_

Draco sat alone on the steps outside the great hall. It was unseasonably cold for May, but he figured that made sense for the day following the horrors had just taken place.

It was as if the planet was mourning for her, Draco thought with lips pressed into a tight line. He hadn’t _really_ cried yet, partly because it still didn’t feel real, but mostly because he was afraid if he began to grieve, he would never stop.

Night had passed from when the Death Eaters had fought their final battle with the Dark Lord, and it was now the following day. Time didn’t feel real to Draco right now, not that it mattered to him anymore, anyways.

He hadn’t spoken to anyone since he had seen Hermione in the aftermath of the battle, hair streaked red from the mottled flesh of her neck where Nagini had struck over and over. Draco didn’t think his voice could work after that, even if he wanted to speak, the echo of his hollow scream still in his throat.

Draco blinked, the image of Hermione’s frail body being tossed around by the rippling muscles of Nagini on a loop in his head—one that never got easier no matter how many times it played over again. He remembered the way she crumbled backwards, eyes wide in shock as she didn’t even have time to scream.

Draco pulled himself from his thoughts, blinking his blank eyes back into focus on the solemn scene around him.

The stairs had become his sanctuary over the past 24 hours, far enough away that no one bothered him, but close enough to keep watch of the small lump of flesh under blanket down the corridor.

A few people would walk by and try to console him, but in the recent hours, their attempts had dwindled to only sympathetic looks and the gentle press of hands on his slumped shoulder blades as they whispered words of condolences for his loss as they passed by.

Throughout their years at Hogwarts, Draco and Hermione had become inseparable. An unlikely pair, and one his parents loved to criticize, but one that made sense.

Their bond had formed over long nights studying, that grew to long nights of talking, that eventually consumed their days as well.

He had tagged along with her group of friends frequently, catching some taunts from other Slytherins, but largely ignoring it. Eventually, it wasn’t even questioned that he had grown so close with the group, as any friend of Hermione’s was his as well, and vice versa.

Draco’s hand reached beneath the collar of his shirt to find the time turner that he had stolen selfishly from her corpse, if only for his own comfort. Draco had retrieved the pendant from Hermione’s neck upon carrying her limp form into the corridor where the injured and dead were assessed, the familiar glint of metal catching his eye.

As he had waited for a nurse to make it to where she lay, Draco took his time removing the chain from the torn flesh around Hermione’s neck and shoulders, working gingerly even though he was fully aware she couldn’t feel any of it.

Hands covered in her blood, Draco was instructed to cover Hermione with the blanket provided.

The nurse never came.

Realizing he had been staring into his palm for a good amount of time now, Draco directed his attention towards the pendant dangling from his neck. The once lustrous gold was now tinged brown with dried blood, and was dull from years of wear on adventures to places only he and Hermione knew of.

His thumb passed over the delicate inscriptions on the rotating rings, echoes of Hermione’s laughter reverberating through Draco’s body and striking something at his very core. He closed his hand tight around the metal, until its edges dug uncomfortably into the pallid skin of his palm.

With a sigh, Draco unfurled his clenched hand and returned the pendant to its place against his chest, the cool metal bouncing off of his skin and reminding him of a different memory with every shiver that it sent through his body.

Regardless of if nobody cared enough to confront him about the illegal object around his neck, he didn’t want to risk losing the only thing he had left from her.

Despite Draco’s attempt to ignore time and stay fixed in this moment, life carried on, and the day melted into night, the bodies littering Hogwarts’ halls dwindling fewer and fewer with each passing hour.

Occasionally, Draco would make his way to where she laid, adjusting the blanket and making sure Hermione was untouched. It was one of these times that Harry approached him, lowering himself to squat beside where Draco was kneeling.

He had been busy tucking the edges of the frayed wool blanket beneath Hermione’s sides, and didn’t stop as Harry came to his side.

“She hated wool, you know,” Draco said, the first words to leave his mouth in almost 48 hours. His voice was hoarse and unfamiliar, the strain of sorrow having taken a toll on his vocal chords, “she always said it was too itchy to be worn regularly.” Draco smoothed his hand over the fabric where her arm laid covered underneath, letting out a tense sigh. Harry’s mouth tilted into a sad smile, watching Draco mourn in his own way.

“I know, she always complained when we would get presents from Ron’s mom for Christmas, but would have never let Mrs. Weasley know that,” He said, maintaining his composure for Draco. Harry had processed the thick of his emotions at this point, but thinking back on simpler times together admittedly made his eyes gloss over with tears.

He turned his attention to Draco now, noticing the intense shadows on his face, aging him far beyond his years. With a furrowed brow, Harry gently gripped Draco’s bicep.

“Have you slept?” He asked candidly, knowing the answer for himself was probably the same. Draco simply shook his head in response, confirming Harry’s suspicions.

“Hm, well you look like shit,” he offered plainly.

Draco’s gaze had never left Hermione’s blanket-covered body, but his brow furrowed at the odd remark, looking up to Harry and feeling a laugh bubble up from deep in his chest.

Harry was caught off guard, but at a very personal level, understood. Draco had just lost his parents allegiance, his best friend, and everything else that had seemed normal for him.

As Harry processed the new connection they would always share, he had no time to prepare for the sudden evolution of Draco’s laughter into tears, his thin brow pulling together on his face as heavy drops fell onto the navy-blue blanket beneath him.

Draco’s cries echoed through the hallway, hands bracing himself against Hermione’s left side as the raw emotion ran through him like electricity.

Interrupting his sob, Harry grabbed Draco’s face abruptly, startling him as he raised a small vial to his face. The distraction slowed his crying, but still allowed for two thick tears to roll down his cheek and into the glass container.

“In case you ever need to see her again,” Harry said softly, once Draco had pulled himself together. “I’m sorry if I made things worse by coming over, we’ve just been worried about you,” he added, nodding back towards where he had been sat with Ginny and Ron.

Draco shook his head, sniffing and sitting back against the wall of the corridor.

“No, I needed that,” he said, voice raspy. “That’s the first time I’ve really cried you know?” Draco used the back of his hand to wipe his face, his cheeks mottled with the blood that had rushed to his head following his outburst.

Harry paused, wondering how to go about addressing the subject of moving Hermione’s body from the hall. She had no family to mourn her anymore, as she had erased all memory of herself from their minds upon the beginning of the war. But regardless, she could not stay here forever, decaying in the main hallway.

“They’re beginning to make burial arrangements for those who passed... Would you like me to have someone take care of that for you, or do you want to help when the time comes?” Harry finally asked, his tone as gentle as if he were talking to a child.

Draco’s expression was unreadable as he processed the question, staring somewhere into the distance over Harry’s shoulder. He sniffed, shifting his eyes to meet Harry’s.

“I don’t really have any business doing that, do I?” he asked, half wanting Harry to disagree and tell him that her arrangements were his business as if she were family to him. To his dismay, Harry shrugged, unsure of how to respond to the question.

“Either way, nobody would be upset if you wanted to lend a hand, Draco. She meant a lot to you,” Harry’s eyes fell to where Hermione’s pinky finger peeked out from under the blanket. “Take your time, I’m going to grab the others and come back shortly. I think they’d like to say goodbye as well,” Harry managed, standing from where he had been squatting on the ground across from Draco.

Draco nodded firmly, putting on the front that he was stable for the time being. He watched Harry make his way back into the Great Hall, letting out a shuddering breath once he was alone again.

Moving the blanket just enough to expose the side of Hermione’s head closest to him, Draco let his fingers slip delicately through her hair, still soft from the way she had styled it the morning before.

“I’ll bring you back,” he hissed under his breath, voice slanted with a newfound anger and determination, “I’ll die before I live in a world without you in it.” Draco relaxed his hand, allowing her hair to slip lifelessly back into place on the stone floor of the corridor.

Lost in his thoughts, he looked up and saw that the others had begun to make their way over to where Hermione lay, signaling that their time alone was over. Draco didn’t even attempt a smile this time, a bitterness at the world filling his body like poison and replacing all the goodness that had been there before because of _her_.

As the others lowered themselves to properly mourn Hermione, Draco remained quiet, still sitting beside her like a shadow. Finally, he sighed softly, looking up at the two weeping redheads in front of him.

“Would you like to see her face?” he offered timidly, knowing Hermione’s peaceful face may help them accept her death, “her neck isn’t something you want to see, but from her face up she looks quite normal,” Draco said with a slight motion towards the blanket.

Ron wiped his teary eyes, managing a nod as he choked back his own cries. Draco, in response, carefully folded the blanket atop Hermione’s body just so that it would rest beneath her chin.

It was the first time Draco had properly seen her face since they had given him the covering, over twenty-four hours ago following the battle. His breath faltered at the sight, a dull aching in his chest spreading as his gray eyes scanned over her face, her expression peaceful but empty.

Hermione’s eyelids were closed, thick lashes resting on the peaks of her freckled cheekbones and giving the illusion of sleep. Her lips were slightly parted, but just enough that her teeth were visible if you really looked.

Draco thought in an odd way, she had never looked more beautiful than in this moment, contrasting the dank rubble of the battle’s aftermath with her ethereal peace even in death.

He was drawn from his thoughts by a bony hand on his shoulder, looking up to find that it was attached to Professor Mcgonagall.

“May I steal you for a moment, Mr. Malfoy?” She asked, motioning to a spot just steps away from the others. Draco paused, but nodded and stood feebly to join her.

“I wanted to let you know that as acting headmaster, I intend to have Hermione buried at the cemetery in Godric’s Hollow—as a true Gryffindor should be,” she offered cautiously, clearly unsure of how Draco would react to her decision.

Taking a moment to weigh the decision, Draco suddenly realized he was filthy, his clothes wrinkled and stained copper with Hermione and Merlin knows who else’s blood. His face was grimy with dried sweat and tears, their remnants cutting trails through the dust from rubble that had settled around the castle.

He looked back up to Mcgonagall, wiping a self-conscious hand over his stubble and gave the slightest of nods.

“Yeah,” he managed, pressing his lips into a thin line, “It’s only right.”

The professor gave him a deep nod of sympathy, an understood somberness hanging in the air between them. Mcgonagall left just as she had come, making her way to whoever Draco assumed would be handling the bodies like a plum-cloaked grim reaper.

Draco stayed put for a moment, their brief conversation playing over in his head and only fueling his anger.

_Put her where you want_ , he thought, _she won’t be there for long if I can help it_.

Draco’s teeth chewed at the inside of his cheek, staring in thought through the green-tinted stained glass out onto the pavilion where ironically, Nagini had struck Hermione only days before.

Blood covered the marble platform, the stain so severe that Draco imagined they would have to rebuild from the ground up to effectively get rid of it. He stepped forwards to get a better look, the aged glass warping the outside image.

The green of the stain glass in front of him glinted brilliantly against Draco’s porcelain cheek, making him feel constricted, as if he were in a glass bottle only observing the outside world with no control of what happened.

His chest tightened at the realization, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and sorrow, every tragedy from the past two days hitting him like a punch to the gut. Hermione. His family. Friends he had grown up with. His mentor. Gone, just because of one person’s selfishness.

Tears blurred Draco’s eyes but refused to fall as he felt his feet moving him towards the window, mind having no control over his actions in the moment. It was a simple punch at first, resulting in bruised knuckles and a loud _pang_ from the thick glass in front of him. But the glass’s rigidity frustrated Draco, resulting in another punch, and another after that, the green glass shattering around his fist and digging in deep at the flesh around his wrist.

“Draco _stop!”_

“Come on, you need to get some air—"

Before he could do any more damage, he was being yanked backwards, two pairs of hands scrambling to put distance between himself and the shattered windowpane, their voices fading into the background noise.

As he was jostled about, Draco looked down at his injured hand, feeling an uncomfortable clicking each time he clenched his fist, allowing him to draw the assumption that at least one of his knuckles had been dislocated in his tantrum.

_Good_ , Draco thought smugly. At least he was in control of something, and if other people got to be selfish, why couldn’t he?

Draco looked around, realizing he had been dragged all the way to the infirmary, beds full with the horrors of battle as he was seated in a chair he realized was one intended for occlumency class.

A nurse quickly inspected his hand, turning it over gently before casting a initial healing spell and darting away to grab him a vial of deep amber liquid.

Draco was instructed to drink, and drink he did; immediately feeling the warming qualities of whatever she had given him. He meant to ask, so that he could stock up some of whatever this was for his own keeping, but she had already moved back to a wizard with scalding black marks up the side of his torso.

Looking around the bustling infirmary, Draco remembered Hermione, her body now cold and alone on the stone floor, pulling at something deep inside him that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. It was at this moment that he realized the corners of his vision had gone fuzzy, his posture slouching a bit in the deep-seated chair.Draco struggled to stay awake, blinking hard as he fought the potion.

“’Ermione,” he mused helplessly, only one nurse even glancing at him before he drifted into a deep sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this and want updates, follow my Tumblr @TaylaWrites where I'll be posting every chapter as I update! Thanks for reading and hope you're buckled in for a wild ride. x Tayla


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